His Brother's Toys
by PocketSizedWolf
Summary: Growing up, Sherlock always wanted to play with his brother's toys. One day, he decided to play with a very specific toy. Written for a good friend of mine. Alex, my darling, this is all yours... Warnings: Slavery, Dubious-Con.


Her ass swayed gently as she moved on all fours, her body slender and firm, like a highly trained, pedigree dog. She supposed that was what she was to him, and the collar around her neck told everyone that. She was his pet, his property. No matter what, she belonged to him. This wasn't a simple submissive/Dominant relationship, she hadn't even known him when he's purchased her from a shady character, minutes after she'd almost found herself abducted. She was grateful, in a way, because far far worse would have happened to her had she been taken. She heard stories, even now, of the underground sex slave trade.

No, she was lucky. Her owner was kind and attentive and treated her well. Often, he didn't even want sex. He just wanted a PA. She was allowed to do as she pleased, see family, work, text. Of course, she worked for him, and he read through her messages constantly, monitored them 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, but she didn't mind.

She lay out in front of the fire that he had prepared every evening, for 8pm exactly, whether he would be home or not. Often he wouldn't be home, choosing instead to stay at the office. Not that he really had much choice. His work was important, and he had to be there. She worked for him, but not for as long. Her shifts were simple and regular. 9am until 6pm. At 6pm every day, she was driven home by a driver and the moment she entered the house, his housekeeper would take her clothes and slip a collar around her neck, and she would be forbidden from walking or dressing, unless they had visitors, or he gave her permission.

The heat from the fire was lovely, however, on her naked flesh, and she stretched gently. She knew his schedule like the back of her hand. He wouldn't be home until at least 2am. The foreign office had been in uproar when she'd been sent home. So it was fair to say that the sound of a man clearing his throat had made her jump.

"Enjoying yourself while my idiot brother is at work, I see.." Sherlock Holmes stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her, his eyes drinking in every curve. She swallowed, but didn't respond. Sherlock moved towards Mycroft's custom-made armchair and sat down into it, watching her, calculating. She looked at his face, and chewed on her lower lip. Sherlock was closer to her age. Closer, but still older. Eight years older, in fact, and ridiculously handsome. His eyes drank in her naked form, and she could feel the pure lust coming from the 27 year old Consulting Detective.

Sherlock leaned forward and gripped her hair, pulling her towards the chair. She followed, obediently, until she was in the position he wanted her in. She knew what was coming next and, truthfully, the nineteen year old had been desperate for this to happen. Sherlock was much more her type and the past three years that she had been serving Mycroft, she had done nothing but lust after his younger brother. Her knees shook as the older man pressed a button on the arm of the chair. Thick cuffs instantly snapped around her wrists, preventing her movement and she looked down to position her arms properly, to prevent the cuffs digging into her tender flesh.

When she looked up, Sherlock's trousers were around his ankles, and her eyes were met with the sight of his 8 inch long cock, standing erect before her eyes. He didn't have to tell her what to do next, Mycroft had trained her to perfection with this, and she had wanted to taste Sherlock for years. Her lips surrounded the head of his cock, and gently slid along his shaft as her tongue ran down the sensitive underside. Her eyes were fixed on Sherlock as her tongue caressed him, working out where the most tender, sensitive parts of his organ were. She continued until she felt fingers in her hair, tugging her up and, simultaneously, her wrists were released.

"Very good, Anthea.." Sherlock smirked, before patting his knee gently. Swallowing nervously, Anthea moved to straddle him, her fingers lightly gliding over the back of the arm chair. It felt wrong, so very wrong, to be serving someone else when he was sat in her Master's chair. But she had very little choice, and she knew it. Sherlock could make her life hell in so many ways, so she simply went along with it. Besides that, she felt a surge of excitement at the idea of feeling such an attractive man inside her.

Sherlock's nails ran down her back before his hands gripped her hips firmly and began to lower her onto his cock. She squeaked lightly as she felt it enter her. He was smaller than Mycroft, but wider, and she could feel herself stretching. Her nails dug into the back of the chair as Sherlock pushed himself completely inside her. She closed her eyes, feeling his shaft moving, slowly, within her. Her breath had become shallower as he pulled out almost completely only to slam back into her.

She wasn't sure when it happened, but her hands were now trailing down his back, in a way they never would do with Mycroft. For one, Mycroft preferred to take her in ways that prevented him from having to look her in the face, and he was rather fond of bondage. Sherlock, on the other hand, was being gentle and slow, and her nails moved down his back, creating angry red lines in his pale flesh.

He began to move faster, gripping her hips tighter as he pounded her slender body. His lips brushed over her shoulder and onto her neck before trailing along her jaw line and eventually catching her lips. She yelped in surprise as his lips pressed against hers, and his tongue slipped between them, passion and tenderness showing themselves as the two moved against one another. Anthea's hips began to move of their own accord, and Sherlock's hands trailed up her body, caressing every smooth piece of flesh along the way before he cupped her breasts, his thumbs stroking over her nipples, teasing them as his tongue continued it's tango with hers. An orgasm hit her before she even realised she was close, and her muscles began to clench and unclench around Sherlock's shaft. The very sensation caused the Detective to release within her with a soft moan, a moan that was drowned out by the woman's mouth. They both were breathing heavily, panting as their hands continued to explore one another, Anthea's trailing down Sherlock's chest, his hands running down her back.

She pulled back and looked at him, and he smiled softly before a sudden coldness washed over his face and he stood up, unceremoniously knocking her to the floor. Without a word, he pulled his trousers back up and nudged her away with his foot before moving towards the door in silence. He paused for a few moments in the doorway, lingering before turning back to face her.

"If you speak a word of this to Mycroft.. I'll make sure you pay for it."

And then he was gone.


End file.
